Paul Revere and the Raiderser, Marauders
by Blynneda
Summary: Parody of the episode "Marauders"


_Author's Note:  I wrote this last night, so it's probably a little rough around the edges.  It's also my first _Enterprise_ fanfic, which I've been meaning to get around writing eventually.  Actually, I've got about five different projects on my plate right now, and I haven't been properly inspired to write any of them, so I figured I'd go for some pure, unadulterated fun.  I hope you think so, too._

_In fact, this is my first post in, like, forever.  I'll have to change my bio and everything.  Sheesh!_

_Oh, I guess I haven't really introduced this:  this is a parody of the recent (very recent) episode "Marauders."  I just felt like parodizing it.  Don't worry.  I like the show.  That's where parodies come from.  I recommend you read this only _after_ watching the episode.  Otherwise, it'll make even less sense than it does now._

Paul Revere and the Raiders—er, Marauders 

Open onto a scene of an arid little mining village, largely reminiscent of the "Desert Crossing" planet and whichever one or ones happened to feature miners.  The only difference is that this particular village has a little boy in it.  Well, maybe the other desert one did, too; we don't entirely remember.  It doesn't matter.  This little village was probably filmed in some California desert, or maybe Utah, if they felt like splurging.  But it's obviously alien, because these people have funny little creases on their foreheads.  Why evolution saw fit to alter the foreheads of so many different intelligent species we may never know, but it must serve some useful purpose.  Doesn't hurt so much when you slap your forehead in a display of your stupidity, perhaps.

_Anyway, the scene…let's see, foreign planet, never been here before—oh, look, here comes _Enterprise_!  And now that the Alien of the Week has been introduced, cut to commercial._

ACT 1:  _Enterprise_ desperately needs stuff, and the villagers (with good reason) want only to get rid of them.

_Emerge the Big Three from shuttlepod (wonder who's in charge of the ship?).  Exchange some dopey greetings with the natives (Archer was the best choice to represent Earth in First Contact with other species of the world?  No wonder everyone hates Earth later on)._

Alien with no name #1 (who shall henceforth be known as Al#1):  I'm sorry, we can't spare any of our funny-name mineral.

T'Pol:  But you have 80,000 liters in storage.

Al#1:  We do?  Oh, that.  Well, that's for the big bully who comes and steals our lunch money.  Can't give you that.  Come back at the end of the season.

Trip:  The _baseball_ season?  I think it's over now.

Archer:  Big bully?  Where?  I can take him.

Al#1:  Oh, yes, and two of our…machine-thingies are broken.

Alien #2:  Hey, maybe you could help us fix our machines.  Have you ever fixed a mining machine before?

Trip:  Well, no, but just give me a commercial break or two, and I'll probably figure it out.

Al#2 (_excited at the prospect of not having to do any work himself_):  All right!

Archer (_hopefully, but trying to stay manly and authoritative_):  Then we could help each other…

Al#1:  Yeah, whatever.

Archer (_keeping the desperation out of his voice_):  But we really need that oil, I mean, mineral-with-the-chemical-sounding-name.

Al#1:  You're not very good at doing business, are you?

Trip goes back to the shuttlepod.  He finds the child.  And here the randomly-selected crewmember will befriend a child and thus establish lasting ties with this godforsaken group of people.  This time this duty falls on Trip, but it really could have been anyone.   Except T'Pol.  Obviously, she wouldn't befriend a child.  Unless it was a Vulcan.  Oh, and it has to be an orphan.  Makes it more pathetic that way.

Trip:  Hey, what are y'all doin' in here?

Boy:  Oh, I was just trying to fly this heap out of this cesspool.  I'm the only little boy here, you know.  It kinda sucks.  I have to befriend alien strangers.  My parents don't really care about me.  Oh, wait.  I don't have parents.

Trip:  That's nice.  You're gonna 'splode something if you're not careful.

Boy:  Are you a pilot?

Trip:  Naw, this thing just flies itself.  Actually, I'm an engineer.  Even though the Cap'n can fly better than me, I get stuck with the piloting duties.  Too bad, ain't it?

Boy:  Sure.  So you're not a pilot?

Trip:  Not really.

Boy:  Oh.  Never mind.

Trip:  I feel like I'm suddenly forming a lasting bond with you.  Would you like to take a tour of my ship?  The big one, I mean.

Boy:  You're not trying to abduct me, are you?

Trip (_eyes shifting uneasily_):  Who, me?

_Meanwhile, Archer and T'Pol are discussing terms with the aliens._

Al#1:  Do you have any idea how hard it is to refine a liter of deuterium?

Archer (_blinks; he's called his bluff_):  Um…of course not.  What, do you think I know anything?  About mining, I mean.

Al#1:  Oh, yes, you have to leave soon, too.  Okay?

Archer:  Er…all right.

Alien woman:  We could use some medical supplies.  To help with the bul—I mean, the dangerous mining techniques.

Archer (_feeling generous_):  Sure, come on over!  We don't care about using up valuable fuel for our pods, so we'll just shuttle everyone back and forth like it's a freakin' airport.

Al#2:  What's an airport?

In sickbay:

Phlox (_cheerfully_):  You can have the leech if you like.

Alien woman (_grimacing_):  No thanks.

Phlox:  Here, let me give you our most expensive equipment.  We won't need it, at least not until next week, anyway.

Alien woman:  Gee, thanks.  (_Runs out before he can change his mind_)

Phlox (_looking puzzled_):  Hmm, maybe I shouldn't have given her everything except Leechy here.  (_shrugs_)  Oh, well!  Optimism!

Back on the surface:

Archer:  Why are these people living in such a hellhole?  I woulda thought they'd be rich with all the business they could do in deuterium mining.  They should be living the high life.

T'Pol (_tiredl;, she's been through this before_):  Okay, not everyone is supposed to live according to your American, Earth-based ideals of living.

Archer:  Well, sure, but doesn't this kind of suck?  I'm glad I decided to be a heroic starship captain instead of a lowly miner.

T'Pol:  Sometimes I wonder why I have the hots for you.

Up on the bridge:

Hoshi:  Hey, we haven't even been _on_ yet.  What's up with that?

Reed:  What do you think we should do?

Travis:  Hey, look, we've got a ship coming!

They all perk up.

Reed:  Good, maybe we can have a firefight, try out those new cannon things I've been working on.

Travis:  They're Klingons.

Reed:  Hmm.  We haven't seen _them_ since I got to be half-nekkid in the decon chamber with the two babes.  This may be promising…

ACT 2:  The Klingons show up, then leave.  The _Enterprise_ folks consider leaving, then decide it would make a more interesting episode if they stay a while.

Al#1, over intercom to Al#2:  Korok's coming.

Al#2:  Already?  I thought they wouldn't show up till we got rid of these losers.

Trip:  Losers?

Al#2 (_dismissively_):  Just a pet name we have for you.  Okay, I'll be right there.

Trip:  Uh, what's wrong?  (_Al#2 ignores him_)

Elsewhere… 

Al#1 (_looking worried, making preparations_):  Damn!  Now what?

Archer and T'Pol:  Uh, what's wrong?

Al#1:  Oh, nothing, just those bullies I mentioned earlier.  See, they get a bit antsy about seeing other people around.  Keeps them from taking our money.   They start to worry about tattletales, you know.

Archer:  Okay.  Let's hide then.

_They hide in a hut with transparent walls a few meters away.  Klingons arrive in a neato transporter effect, which doesn't faze anybody, least of all the Earthlings, who, you'd think, wouldn't see that everyday._  (_A/N:  Why do a group of basically pirates have better technology than the best that Earth has to offer?  Isn't that a bit strange?_)

Korok:  Eat now!  Talk later!

Al#1:  We don't have our lunch money today.

Korok:  What!  (_shoves people around for a while_)   Klingon smash!

In their "hiding" place:

Trip:  Can y'all hear anything?

Archer:  Maybe if you shut the hell up for a minute…

T'Pol:  I can hear.  Look at my enormous ears.  They're aerodynamically designed to hear better than inferior humans' ears.

Trip (_looking at her_):  Oh, yeah?  In the entire year we've worked together, not to mention the decades we've known Vulcans, this is the first I've heard of that.

Meanwhile, Klingons still smashing.

Korok:  I only come here because I can get deuterium for free, when I'd have to pay for it somewhere else!  I'm going to come back in a few days, without taking what you already have.  And then I'll take it.  See what you do about that!  (_shouts gibberish that might well be "Klingon" into communicator, and they disappear_)

Archer comes out to help wussy Alien #2, who got punched in the face.

Archer:  So, what have you done about these meanies?

Al#1 (_thinks for a minute_):  Mmm…nuttin'.

Archer:  Nothing?

Al#1:  Well, you see, we tried to hit back, but they're big.  And mean.  Have you ever seen a Klingon in battle?

Archer:  I think I have, actually.  First episode, maybe?  Can't 'member.  (_looks to Trip, who shrugs_)  Yeah.  They're not so tough.

Alien woman:  They killed the boy's father, just out of spite.  (_Boy sniffles_)

Trip:  So what happened to his mother?

Alien woman:  That would be me.

Trip:  I thought he was an orphan.

Alien woman:  Oh, he does that from time to time, says he's an orphan.  He's just playing around.  Tries to get candy from the aliens who show up.  Don't give him anything.

Boy looks sadly at Trip, with his Bambi/puppy eyes.

Reed (_over communicator_):  The Klingons are gone.  You can crawl out of your hiding place now.  I would've shot at them, myself.

Boy:  I thought you'd help us.

Trip:  Aww, how sweet.  Maybe we should help you.

Boy:  The Klingons have some big-ass weapons.  I wish we had big-ass weapons.  Does the _Enterprise_ have weapons?

Trip (_startled_):  What?  How'd you know the name of my ship?  I never told you!

Boy (_looks alarmed for a minute_):  Uh, it was probably written on the side of your shuttlepod or something.

Trip (_relieved_):  Oh, okay.

Back up on the ship, in Archer's Ready Room:

Archer (_speaking to T'Pol, who has just entered_):  So, what do you think of our new uniforms?   Pretty neat, huh?

T'Pol:  Eh, not bad.  Bit form-fitting.

Archer (_grins_):  I had a hand in their design.

T'Pol blinks.

Archer:  Well, back to this situation.  (_affects bold, no-nonsense posture_)  This isn't right!  We should do something about this, 'cause it makes me mad!

T'Pol:  Like what?

Archer:  Well, let's…hmm.

T'Pol:  Anything we do will only make the situation worse.

Archer (_smiles triumphantly_):  Then let's make it worse!

In the middle of the night, Archer lurks around the houses, on the off-chance that someone might be awake.  He finds Al#1 fiddling with a big piece of equipment.

Archer:  Hi.  We can help you defend yourselves.

Al#1:  'Bout time you got around to suggesting that.  I've been standing out here waiting for you for a couple hours now.

Archer:  So whaddaya say?  Deal?

Al#1:  I don't want you to help.  I'm insecure in my leadership.

Archer (_gleefully_):  We'll get those bastards out of your hair!

Al#1:  It didn't work before.

Archer:  Yeah, well, we're here now.  It'll be different.

Al#1:  Hey, that's right.  Hmm.

Archer:  We're some tough S.O.B.'s!

Al#1 (_uncertain_):  Well, when you leave, we're screwed!

Archer:  There's a saying on my world.  Give a man a fish, and he'll eat for a day.  Teach a man to fish, and he'll eat for a lifetime.

Al#1 (_stares at him for a few minutes_):  That's profound, man.  (_pause_)  We don't got no fish here.  It's a desert.

Archer:  Okay, then here it is, simpler.  Kill a Klingon for a man, and, well, there's no more Klingon.  Teach a man to kill a Klingon and he'll be able to…kill more Klingons.

Al#1:  Oh!  Now I get it!  That's convinced me!

Archer (_mostly to himself_):  Isn't that cool—those stupid Earth proverbs are good for something!

ACT 3:  Here's the part where they prepare to fight back.  It's pretty boring, and actually quite short, too.  Suffice it to say that by the next commercial, these miners will be experts in hand-to-hand combat.  Or if not that, at least in pulling the wool over the Klingons' eyes.

Reed:  Damn!  These are some snazzy uniforms!  Did we stop by Planet Gap or something when I wasn't looking?  (_checks out miner's gun_)  Well, this thing is pretty old, but I can probably fix it so you can kill a Klingon with it.

Al#2:  We shoots lizards with these!

Reed (_bored_):  Do you, now?

Archer:  You're going to have to trick the Klingons.  Klingons are kinda dumb.  We know them well, because we've encountered them, what?  Three, four times now. (_looks to Trip for confirmation.  He shrugs_)

Trip:  I don't even know why I'm here right now.

Archer:  We're going to pull the ol' bait and switch.

Al#1:  What?

Archer:  Oh, sorry, more fishing terms.

Reed:  Can we hide in the gullies outside the village?

Al#2:  No.

Reed:  Oh, oops.  Change of plans, then.

Al#2:  Oh, I thought you meant right now.  I kinda wondered, you know.  Don't we have work to do?

Archer:  Okay, I'll bring all my crew down to do manual labor for you.  Especially Travis.  He doesn't have anything better to do.  Ships can stay in orbit by themselves, can't they?  (_looks to Trip for confirmation, who shrugs_)

Al#1:  So, you're going to do everything for us?  Hey, what was that thing you said before about teaching a man to fish?

Archer:  Yeah, sure.  Well, I realized later that only applies to feeding those poor bastards on welfare.

After a few random scenes of people moving stuff around, turn to some part of the ship, where people get to shoot CGI effects.

Reed:  Okay, here's your gun back.  I did something with the thing so you won't be able to shoot accurately.  Now see if you can hit the special effects.  Don't worry if you can't see it; it'll be added in later.  You won't hit it until Hoshi gives you some meaningful instruction, anyway.

Alien fails to shoot the orb even once.  Reed sighs at his ineptitude.  Hoshi moves forward and helps him out.  She demonstrates her great hand weapon skill, much to the surprise of Reed.

Reed:  How did you learn to shoot like that?  I thought I was the one who taught you!

Hoshi:  Yeah, well, I did a little practicing on my own.  Without you hovering over me the whole time, I got it down pretty fast.

Reed:  Are you going to take my job?

Hoshi:  Mmm, probably not.  Unless you get killed off or something.

Back planetside, Trip and Archer are having a little heart-to-heart.

Trip:  I'm all sweaty and dirty.  Movin' stuff is hard work!  Do you think this plan will actually work?

Archer (_pauses, a bit worried_):  Good time to speak up there, Trippy.  It'll work because we're doing the Right Thing!

Back on the ship, in another mysterious room:

T'Pol:  I'm going to teach you some Vulcan defensive techniques which, until this point, I have never revealed that I knew.  Mayweather, help me out.  Hit me with this.  Unfortunately, we have no Klingon weapons on board, so this will have to suffice.

Travis (_confused_):  A baseball bat?  Why do we even _have_ a baseball bat on the ship?

T'Pol:  Hit me.  Don't worry, you won't hurt me.

Travis (_hesitates, looks at her tough, athletic stance_):  You're not going to hurt _me_, are you?  The viewers all seem to hate me, I bet they'd just like to see you kill me off, wouldn't they?

T'Pol:  I'm only doing what the script told me to do…

Meanwhile, Archer shifts more tin plating around.  Apparently, the village is made up entirely of corrugated tin plating and transparent plastic.

_Here's the Touching Moment with the Child:_

Boy:  One of those guys from your ship told me I couldn't fight the Klingons with you.

Trip (_suddenly angered_):  Oh, yeah?  Well, who was it?  I'll give him what for!

Boy:  It was Lt. Reed.

Trip (_relaxes again_):  Oh, well, you'd better listen to him.  Ya gotta stay outta the way.  Or else you'll get your head ripped off.

Boy (_sighing resignedly_):  Oh—kay.

Trip (_affecting a parental role_):  Now, you're not going to come running out in a dramatic moment and screw everything up, are you?

Boy:  Well, it depends on how exciting everything needs to be.

Finally, the preparations are complete.  Touching Moment Between Two Leaders:

Archer:  Well, we're ready.

Al#1:  I hope everyone survives.  Especially me.

Archer:  Fine time to worry about that now.  You see, when man first set out into space, particularly me, we thought we'd just be shaking hands with aliens and being all nice and everything.  Then we had to fight some other aliens…

Al#1's eyes glaze over.

Archer (_continuing his Lecture of the Week_):  We got into a fight with these guys, the Suliban—they're the Enemy of the Series—so, anyway, I got hurt and I wanted to go home, just like now, matter of fact, but I had to kick some butt.  (_steps forward into camera in major revealing character point_)  I'm not ashamed to admit that I wet my pants then.  I just did now, in fact.

Reed (_over communicator_):  The Klingons are here.  Hope you're ready.

Archer:  There I go again!

Now, to mount tension before the dramatic conclusion, let's take a commercial break! 

ACT 4:  The, well, the dramatic conclusion.  Just goes to show, with a little rope and some bandanas, you can do anything!

Ghost town.  The Klingons arrive.

Korok:  Listen to that.  It's all quiet.  Where is everybody?

Klingon #4:  Shouldn't you have said that in Klingon?

Korok:  Grr.  If you insist.  (_stops talking English to discuss the situation in Klingon_)

And so the battle ensues.  Let's do this "Home Alone" style!  Where's the Micro Machines and the tub o' paint?  The natives all manage to magically elude Klingons using T'Pol's swerving maneuvers.  They must've picked up on it pretty fast.

You know these people are true guerilla warriors because they've adopted the universal uniform:  bandanas on their heads, and muscle shirts.

Meanwhile, T'Pol opens up a can o' Vulcan whoop-ass!

Klingon#2:  Look!  There they are, hidden in those gullies!  Let's pause and wait here for a while.  Watch out for the mastheads, you might blow something up.  We don't want to destroy anything.

Korok:  Why not?

Klingon #2:  Oh, well, I'm a bit of a neat freak that way.

Klingon #6:  Let's kill them all!  And eat them!  Yeah!

Klingon #3:  They taste funny, don't they?

They begin to approach.

Archer:  How do we get them to move?  They need to be over that way further.

Reed:  Why don't we try moving and see if they follow?

Archer:  Oh!  Good idea!

Klingons get into proper position.  Korok pauses, notices something funny on the ground.

Korok:  Hey, what's this?

Klingons #3-6 (standing, looking at each other stupidly):  Huh?  What?  What's you talkin' 'bout?

Flames shoot into air and surround Klingons.  Rather than immediately beaming out and returning in a different location, they stand there and look around them for a minute.  Al#1 comes forward.

Al#1:  You big bullies!  Are you gonna be mean to us anymore?  'Cause if you are, there's more flaming rings where this came from!

Korok:  Grr!  We must bow down to the unnamed alien group we've been stealing deuterium from all this time!  They are too mighty!

Al#1:  Good.

Korok:  We'll go somewhere else, then!  We can steal deuterium from anyone!  (they disappear in dramatic special effects)

Trip:  Well, we sure put the "high" in hijinks, didn't we?

Archer:  Whatever that means.

Al#1:  Do you think they'll come back now that they've been dishonored and humiliated in battle?  Wouldn't that tick them off?

Archer (dismissively):  No!  You really don't know Klingons, do you? (he claps a manly hand on Reed's shoulder, who casually moves away)

Later, Trip finds the kid in his shuttlepod again.

Trip:  What are you, trying to take over my job?  You actually listened to me about not coming out during the fight.

Boy:  Yeah.  I'm an obedient little kid.

Trip:  Now, see, I thought what would happen is, you'd run out and try to avenge your father's death or some lame thing like that, almost get yourself killed, but then be dramatically rescued by me, tying us together in everlasting friendship.

Boy:  You read too many romance novels or something, buddy.

Trip:  Well, as a reward, I'll give you the ship's schematics, so just in case the Klingons do come back, they can steal it and learn all about us.  You know, how you said you loved to look at starships?

Boy:  When did I say that?

Trip:  Well, you did.  So, here ya go.  What's a little classified file or two, after all?  You're just a kid, anyway.

Boy:  Will you come back?

Trip:  Well, I don't really want to, but…who knows?  Keep your hopes up!

Some extras dump a big oil rig full of oil—er, deuterium next to Archer and the gang.  It doesn't explode, much to the villagers'  dismay.

Al#1:  Here.  Now will you leave?

Archer:  Wow.  This is a lot.  It's all for us? 

Al#1:  Yeah, we just wanna get rid of it now.  Without the Klingons, we don't know what we're gonna do with it all.  Golly.

Archer:  Now you get to be rich oil tycoons, living out the American dream!

Al#1:  What's American?

Archer:  Well, it's been fun, but our hour is up.  We've got more brawls to get into, more cultures to screw up.  Maybe if this show got good ratings, we'll see you again.

Aliens sigh in relief, thinking, "We're finally rid of them for good!"

Archer:  So long, then.

Archer and whoever happened to be with him get into the shuttlepod and leave.  The aliens watch silently for a minute, then glance down.

Al#1 (trying to run after them, waving furiously):  Hey, wait!  You forgot your deuterium!

Finis.

Now, wasn't that fun?  I oughta do that again sometime.  Whaddaya think?


End file.
